


you're real

by azirafelle



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Canon, but crowley can't express Feelings so u know, it's not that angsty really, it's only rated t for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 12:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19198864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azirafelle/pseuds/azirafelle
Summary: Crowley has always had a difficult time with reality. If he knows one thing is real, it's Aziraphale. But what does that really mean?





	you're real

For Crowley, reality has always had something of a... shifty, liquid property. He couldn't tell if it was all really real or a demented carnival ride devised for the express purpose of his own eternal punishment. There always seemed to be something just a little askew, just beyond the edge of his control, and it frustrated him. He had tried his luck at being an angel, and that rather went down like a lead balloon. So he'd tried to be an effective demon, and found that to be just as hopeless a situation. No matter what, at the end of the day, there was a feeling scratching at the back of Crowley's consciousness, reminding him that he was too bad to be an angel and too good to be a demon. 

There were things about himself that he didn't like, perhaps, but Crowley had always sensed that there was something else; some experience of reality he just wasn't privy to. Maybe God had forgotten a cog in his mind or his essence somewhere along the way, or maybe the universe really just wasn't that great of a ride to start off with. 

The root of the problem was, Crowley supposed, that everything just felt a little dull. Always had, anywhere he went. Heaven, hell, Chicago, you name it. All a tiny bit underwhelming or a little off somehow, and Crowley's never been able to exactly pinpoint the reason why. Heaven had seemed to be missing that divine touch, and hell hadn't the theatrics he'd quite expected. Earth, at least, brought him pretty close to really feeling like he was part of something, like he belonged. 

He almost felt things when he was drunk, or so he imagined, and made a habit of the indulgence. 

When Crowley drinks, he likes to think back to the first time he ever felt alive. He remembers the angel sheltering him under his wing on the wall of the garden, and he remembers the way the the angel smiles. He thinks of those soft lines around the angel's gentle eyes and the way his nose tips up just a little at the end. 

When he's with the angel, Crowley feels everything. He feels the sun and he wants to bask, not unlike the serpent he once was. He feels every drop of rain on his skin and it makes him shudder with delight. Around the angel, it's like Crowley remembers things he knows he's never done. He remembers sitting in front of a blazing fire, feeling the heat flicker, talking, laughing. He remembers looking up at a night sky when the world was young, gazing at the stars, recognizing each of them intimately. He remembers discovering each new earthly pleasure with delight and innocence and he would give anything for those memories to have been reality. 

Crowley closes his eyes around Aziraphale and it's like making up for lost millennia in so many ways. Some arcane veil is lifted and everything around him is alive, was alive, has always been alive. 

And Crowley knows it isn't just an angel thing; if it was, he would never have fallen. No, it's an Aziraphale thing and he doesn't know how to tell him. He's been trying to put it into words for so long, but how do you express that kind of need to someone? Would, could Aziraphale understand it at all, or would he shy away? 

Crowley knew why Aziraphale had turned him down at so many offers to run away together; their bond wasn't just between the two of them. It was between them and everything. They needed reality like they needed each other, and somewhere deep inside, Crowley was glad Aziraphale hadn't acquiesced. But he had to know. He had to know that Aziraphale understood. He had to know that now, in this new age, they could finally start building a better reality together. 

\--- 

And this was what brought Crowley to the bookshop somewhere after two in the morning, drunk as all hell and more terrified than he'd ever been. 

He stumbled into the building, glancing around wildly, yelling. 

"Angel! Angel? _Fuck_ , angel, are you here?" 

Aziraphale appeared, panicked, from somewhere in the back of the shop. 

"Crowley, whatever is the matter? Ohhh, you're very drunk, come here." He reached out to Crowley, but the demon pulled back, hands in the air. 

"Nah, uh-uh. No, I don't want to be sober, can't. Don't wanna. You can drive the car, uh, come on, angel, we've got to go -"

Aziraphale looked even more shocked and concerned than he had a moment ago. 

"What - what's wrong? Where are we going? What's happened?" He'd already materialized a coat, suspecting another Armageddon or the wrath of Heaven or something even worse. 

Crowley grabbed him by the arm, dragging him outside. 

"It's uh, nothing's wrong, it's just important, really, ve-verrrry important, just, just, you've got to get in the car, I'll explain it, uh, when we get there, uh." Crowley was just this side of coherent and Aziraphale was responding automatically at this point, beyond guessing what had made the demon appear like this. 

"Alright, okay. Of course, Crowley, that's alright -" He paused, helping his friend into the passenger's seat. "Alright, there. Everything's alright, shh." 

The angel dashed around to get into the car. 

"Yes, where are we going?" 

"Uh, oh. Oh, _fuck_ , angel, I don't - where do you want to go? Anywhere you want, I don't care, somewhere with all the stars, _lots_ of them, all of them, jussst, jusst drive -" 

Ah. It was that kind of emergency, then. Aziraphale hadn't really handled this sort of thing with Crowley before, but being an angel, more than a few humans had cried upon his shoulder. This was all new and different, of course, but at least he had something of a point of reference. 

"There, alright. Try to relax a bit, then. You're safe, Crowley, nothing's wrong." He drove with one hand, and placed the other on the demon's shoulder, rubbing gently. Normally, this would have made driving quite difficult, but no one was counting miracles anymore and there wasn't anyone else he'd rather use his powers for. 

Crowley finally began to soften under the angel's touch, calming a little. His eyes were closed and he was sprawled across the seat, more out of it than he'd been for a few decades at least. 

Aziraphale kept murmuring quietly to him as he drove them out of the city. 

\--- 

Crowley thought it had been something like forever when the angel pulled over and removed his hand. 

"Here, shh. Don't move, dear, hang on a second." 

The angel got out and came around to Crowley's side, supporting most of the demon's weight and leading him out a few yards into a field. They were rather far out of London now, and they were the only souls in sight. The shimmer of the moon illuminated the countryside, rolling hills dotted with young trees. Far off in the distance, the lights of the city twinkled. 

Crowley found himself sitting on a blanket, and Aziraphale was setting down a basket beside him. 

"What's that? Where- where'd that come from?" He poked at the covered basket. 

"Tea, dear, and biscuits." The angel sat across the demon, taking a deep breath before he continued. 

"What's on your mind?" 

"Uh, shit, lots of..." The demon made a vague gesture. "Lots of damned... things. All of it. _Things_ , you know." 

Aziraphale waited for him to continue, pouring a cup of tea and handing it to him. 

"This whole, uh. Nahhhh. You know what. You. That's what's on my mind." 

"Me?" Aziraphale tilted his head in confusion. 

"Yeah, yup. Yes sir, you." Crowley took a sip of tea. It was hot and fragrant, and he could feel everything about it. 

He elaborated, "You - you. Right, you saved the world with me. Or you would've, right, if any of that was up to us, like. If we could've done it, all on our own, you'd have helped me, right? And you went to hell and back for me, and I know-" He pointed at Aziraphale. "I know that was not a fucking walk in the park. And I've got to tell you something, and I think - I think you've already got it, but I need to know you know, right? Right. Yeah, well. So you know all that shit with the Fall and that and whatever? Right, and so, and so I've seen it all. You know, been for the whole spin 'round the block or whatever. And that's the whole point, you know, I don't like it, or it doesn't like me, or you know. Yeah. I don't feel things, like, well I guess I do, but not like that. Like, uh, like in poetry or the way it's supposed to be and how you're meant to feel stuff. And it's not 'cause I'm a demon, 'cause it was before all of that, too, right? You know. And I don't - I can't - yeah. Yeah, but. When I'm with you, like really, specifically you, and not - not any-fucking-body else, when I'm with you, I feel, like. _All_ the stuff. All of it, I think, or like. Well, you know." 

Crowley looked down, miserably, mouth hanging open and not quite sure what he'd said or if he'd said the right things or if this was the end or the beginning. Then he gasped. 

Aziraphale had moved closer, cupping the demon's face in his hands. 

"Crowley, might I take off your glasses?" 

The demon shrugged and the glasses were gone. The angel was looking into his eyes, into his soul or whatever he had in place of a soul. 

"Crowley, do you know what that is?" 

"Uh. Shit, angel, would've told you if I knew what I meant." 

Aziraphale was smiling a laughing smile and his voice was light and soft when it spoke. 

"Crowley, that's _love_." 

\--- 

The demon didn't wake up in his own bed but he did wake up with his very own splitting headache. That was the consequence of not having properly sobered up before falling asleep. He found that he could sense everything - the sunlight drowsing through the window, the scent of freshly-washed cotton, the comforting warmth of a handmade quilt. 

But above and beyond all that, Crowley could feel the presence of the angel next to him, slow breaths, smelling of home. He pressed his nose to Aziraphale's neck and the angel stirred. 

"Mmh, Crowley." He pulled the demon's hand over onto his stomach, lacing their fingers together. "I love you." The angel's voice was deep and muffled from sleep and his words sounded like a prayer. 

"I love you too." 


End file.
